


I'm Thinking I'd Prefer Not to Be Rescued

by speccygeekgrrl



Series: MST3K Alternate Universes [26]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotion Play, Emotions, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, shared emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 09:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Jonah has heard some crazy soulmate meet-cute stories, but getting lured to a moon base by a distress call is certainly the most novel he's ever heard of. He doesn't want to think about what might have happened to him if it hadn't been a soulmate meet-cute moment, given that his soulmates are supervillains.





	I'm Thinking I'd Prefer Not to Be Rescued

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's like, eight million variations on the soulmark/soulmate trope, but I just mashed together a few of them I like to make this one. A little bit soulmark, a little bit Vulcan, a lot bit gratuitously feelsy and fluffy.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," he sighed as he stepped out of his Backjack and into some kind of sublunar base. Jonah wasn't sure what he expected— hostility? belligerence? some sort of animosity, at the very least— but his captors' reactions were none of that. The man looked shocked, his jaw dropped, and the woman looked like she was undergoing a swift and severe recalculation of plans.

"It's not a joke," she managed after a moment, and wrapped a hand around her companion's wrist, giving him an urgent look that he returned with a shrug.

"It is a little bit funny though," he said, and now it was Jonah's turn to goggle at them. Well, _shit_ , he'd heard some crazy soulmate meet-cute stories, but getting lured to a moon base by a distress call was certainly the most novel he'd ever heard of.

"So, um... what happens now?" he asked uncertainly. She folded her arms and gave him a critical up-and-down look. Her companion couldn't feign that much composure; he already looked like he was ready to fall in love at the slightest provocation. They were both very short, and their coordinated uniforms marked them as a matched set even if it hadn't been patently obvious by the way she'd reached for him.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded.

"I'm Jonah... Jonah Heston. Uh, Gizmonic pilot—"

"We know what you do," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Kinda obvious between the Backjack and the jumpsuit, don't you think?"

"So who are you?" Jonah asked. "And what are your intentions for me? Cause I'm gonna venture a guess that it's not what your intentions were five minutes ago."

"I'm Kinga, he's Max."

"Just the one name? I thought that fell out of fashion."

"Forrester," she snapped. "Kinga and Max Forrester." Jonah blinked, then took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before putting them back on.

"My soulmates are supervillains. I honestly did not see that coming."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" She smirked. "I hope you don't have any cliched ideas about the transformative power of love or whatever dreck Harlequin and Hallmark are pushing these days. I'm very committed to my villainous career."

"I hardly know you, how should I know how to change you?" Jonah nodded at Max, one brow arched. "What about you? You just let her do all the talking?"

"Well, she is the one in charge of Moon 13," Max said. "Although to be honest now is my time to shine, as the resident romantic. We weren't expecting to find you until we came back to Earth, you've disrupted our ten year plan."

"Well, you disrupted my plan to get rich and get my doctorate, so I'm not apologizing."

"Get rich?" Kinga's interest was clearly piqued. "How's that?"

"The payload I dropped to answer your distress call is all meteors made of precious metals," Jonah said. "I was bringing them back to Gizmonics, along with the working proof of my thesis that was the last thing I needed to finish before getting my Ph.D. So... you might be my soulmates but you're not in my good graces right now."

"Oh!" Without another word, Kinga sprinted off, leaving Max and Jonah staring at each other.

"We'll probably be able to recover most of your payload, provided our minions are slightly more competent than she thinks they are, which most of them are," Max said, and Jonah shrugged.

"I have a feeling that's not for my benefit," he said, and Max's lips twisted wryly.

"I guess that depends."

"On what?"

"On how well calibrated your moral compass is."

"I like to think it's pretty well calibrated."

"That's a pity. You may not have noticed yet, but we take evildoing pretty seriously up here."

"Oh, I think I got an inkling from how you got me here," Jonah said, crossing his arms. "Fake distress call, that's pretty grimy."

"Quite revealing about the kind of person you are, though," Max said, and he offered Jonah a smile and an outstretched hand. "For what it's worth, I dig the heroic instincts. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jonah. You aren't what I was expecting."

"I can definitively say that the two of you aren't what I was expecting either," Jonah said, eyeing Max's hand like it was a trap before tentatively reaching out to meet it. As soon as their skin touched, Jonah jolted from the flood of curiosity and excitement that washed through him, secondhand emotions that felt nearly as immediate as his own. Max's eyes widened and his hand tightened on Jonah's, not painfully tight but definitely tight enough to make Jonah wonder if he'd willingly let go.

"Oh, that's interesting," he breathed, and Jonah arched a brow at him. "Your feelings... taste different. I don't know how to explain it."

"Try?"

"You'll find out what I mean soon enough," Max said, and a moment later Kinga was back, eyeing their clasped hands with a hint of a sneer.

"Already getting touchy-feely, Max? I thought you'd hold out a little longer."

"What can I say, your lack of self control must be spilling over today," he said with a beatific smile. She rolled her eyes.

"We can probably collect all your meteors, Jonah. Most of them, anyways. Maybe."

"Pardon my lack of confidence in your phrasing," Jonah said, and he gently took his hand out of Max's grasp, fighting not to sigh as the vibrancy of Max's feelings left an afterimage on his own feelings, like closing his eyes after staring at the sun, slowly fading away. "You didn't answer my other question." She made a querying sound and he studied her. "What your intentions for me are."

"Well, we can hardly use you as a test subject now, so you'll be spared the torture, or at least that specific torture," she said, and Jonah swallowed nervously. "And we can't let you leave now that you know we're here and can tell people about it."

"So I'm your captive," Jonah said, and she looked quite pleased to have him say it.

"Yes, I suppose you are. But if you've got that Gizmocrat spirit of scientific inquiry, you might not mind staying once you know what we're doing here."

"Supervillain mad science hijinks, I expect," Jonah said.

"Oh, don't make it sound so dull."

"We have dinosaurs," Max said, and Jonah's brows shot up. "And a whole bunch of other things, but I thought the dinosaurs might do to hook your interest, at least."

"Good guess," Jonah said, and Max beamed. "You're... the two of you aren't gonna like, force me to bond with you or anything sketchy like that, right?" He felt himself go pale from just the thought of it, but to their credit they both looked horrified at the suggestion.

"Absolutely not," Max said. "We're villains, not monsters."

"I'm really not interested in coercing a bond and having that resentment in my head for the rest of our lives," Kinga added. "If you decide you hate me, you can keep that in your own head, thanks." Jonah studied the both of them for a moment, then held out one hand to Kinga. She regarded his hand skeptically, and he sighed.

"Gotta dip your toes in if you ever plan to swim," he said, and she rolled her eyes and took his hand. He immediately understood what Max had meant by saying their feelings tasted different— Max's had been sweet and cool like soft-serve ice cream, but Kinga's feelings were spicy and hot like chai, searing at the first touch and leaving him to sort out the complexities— and she was all complexities, layers and layers of emotions, fear and hope and curiosity and possessiveness and rage and wonder and desire and—

"Ugh, you're so _wholesome_ ," she said, nose wrinkling in a parody of disgust he could tell she didn't feel. "Your feelings taste _healthy_ , what kind of neurotypical weirdo are you?"

"I'm not?"

"Not...?"

"Not neurotypical," Jonah said, a bit obviously he felt, "and you very clearly aren't, but he feels normal enough," he added, glancing at Max.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not normal either, just asymptomatic right now," Max said cheerfully. "And, you know, I've never heard of a neurodiverse person being soulmates with a neurotypical person. Not that a ton of research has been done on it, but at least the studies since the seventies seem to indicate that if you're neurodivergent, so's your soulmate going to be."

"I've seen that research," Jonah said. "I guess I didn't fully consider the implications for my personal life though." He turned Kinga's hand curiously, then tugged the cuff up her wrist so he could see the mark that had barely been peeking out from her sleeve. There it was, his own messy handwriting, _**Oh, you have got to be kidding me**_ in stark black on the back of her pale wrist. She yanked her hand away from him, and the afterimage of her feelings faded much faster than Max's had, which made sense given how many of them there were. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's fucking rude to look without asking," she spat, and clasped her hands behind her back, looking stormy.

"I'm sorry," Jonah said again. "I was just curious. I guess it's silly to need visual proof when I can feel it, though." Unbidden, Max rolled his own sleeve up to show Jonah the identical mark in the same place on him, and Jonah nodded. He hardly needed to push up his own sleeves, long limbs always a bit too lanky for the Gizmonic-issued jumpsuits, and he turned up the insides of his wrists to show them their handwriting on him, _**It's not a joke**_ on his left wrist, _**It is a little bit funny though**_ on the right. "Your paired marks," he said, only giving them half the question, and Max smiled.

"Not as easily visible," he said, and Jonah snorted.

"Oh, so you got to avoid the dual-mark stigma, that's convenient for you."

"Oh please, the only people who still stigmatize that are religious fanatics," Kinga sighed.

"Yeah, I'm related to a couple of those," Jonah said, and Kinga and Max shared a glance. "I didn't understand why they didn't like me for the longest time. Not until I got to high school and we did the soulmark unit in health class. I just thought I was lucky because it meant I'd be loved twice as much."

"A do-gooder and an optimist," Kinga said. "You're not what we expected at all."

"At least I was right about one thing... I was pretty sure I'd meet you at the same time."

"Given how rarely we're apart, that was a given for us," Max said.

"How long have you been together?"

"Since we were kids," Kinga said. "We didn't bond until we grew up, but we always knew we were meant for each other."

"Also convenient for you," Jonah said, and Kinga shrugged.

"Our lives aren't exactly easy. Having each other isn't something we take for granted," Max said, and shot Kinga a glance. "Well, not something I take for granted, anyways." She hit him, not gently, but he just bit back a smile and looked back at Jonah. "Is anyone else tired of standing around here? I think we could be a little more comfortable while we get to know each other."

"We're going to have to find a place to keep you since we're not shooting you into space," Kinga said thoughtfully. "I guess it depends on whether you decide to join us or just to be kept here."

"If you're not letting me go, I may as well do something interesting while I'm here," Jonah said, and he followed them as they lead their way through the huge cavernous room to something that looked suspiciously like a late night show's host desk and chairs for interviewees. Kinga sat behind the desk, steepled her hands and pressed her fingers to her pursed lips, studying Jonah with a furrow in her brow.

"So you're a Gizmocrat," she said as he sat down and Max sat on his other side. "What's your focus?"

"Engineering, mostly. Robotics, alternative energy solutions, sprinkle of astrophysics..."

"Robotics," she echoed. "Interesting. We have some problematic robots here, maybe you could figure out how to bring them in line."

"Problematic how?"

"Mouthy," Max said. "She doesn't like the backtalk."

"Oh, you're talking about AIs, not industrial robots! Wait, you have actual conversational robots here? Where did they come from? Did you program them?"

"Not us," Kinga said, nose wrinkling slightly. "We, uh, we appropriated them from their creator."

"So you kidnapped sentient robots and now you're mad they're giving you lip? I'm not going to rewrite something with a mind of its own, sorry," Jonah said, not sounding apologetic at all.

"We were going to kidnap you too," Max pointed out, and Jonah gave him a skeptical look.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've done exactly that. I'm not here of my own volition."

"Oh, but you are," Kinga said. "You could have ignored the distress call, but you dropped everything, literally, to rush to our rescue."

"Under false pretenses!"

"Don't split hairs."

"Are you going to try to reprogram me too if I don't fall in line?"

"Don't tempt her," Max said. "She's all about classical conditioning. Going along with what she wants is less painful than making her convince you around to her way of thinking." Jonah's eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, trying to retreat from both of them.

"What the hell am I getting myself into here?"

"Hey, you're not what we expected either," Kinga snapped. "And I _am_ a supervillain. Verbal persuasion isn't my strong suit unless I can back it up with the threat of force. I'm trying not to strongarm you into anything, Jonah, I'd like this to at least share a passing resemblance with a normal relationship."

"What about you?" Jonah asked, looking at Max, who lifted his hands in a show of innocence.

"I don't like hurting anyone," he said promptly. "Least of all someone whose pain I can feel. I'm happy to get to know you at your pace, but she's much less patient than I am." He shrugged. "I'd promise not to let her hurt you, but I don't like making promises I can't keep, either."

"This is so worrisome," Jonah sighed. "You realize how worrisome this is, right?"

"I hope you get over those protagonist instincts quickly," Kinga said, lip curled slightly. "We already said we're not going to coerce you into bonding with us, but we're not going to suddenly have a change of heart after a lifetime of villainy just because some... some cute lanky nerd with nice eyes and warm hands shows up and smiles at us, okay?"

"I probably would have said warm eyes and nice hands, but yeah, she's right," Max added. Jonah blinked.

"You... like my hands?" He flushed a little, and Max smiled.

"Hold one out..." He hovered one hand over Jonah's when he outstretched it, just enough space between their skin to prevent feeling each other's emotions. "You have _big_ hands," Max said in something altogether too close to a purr for Jonah's composure. "I had a feeling you'd be tall, but you're altogether beyond the few of my expectations that weren't incorrect."

"Yeah, well, none of my expectations were correct except that I’d meet you together and you'd be opposite genders, and that was more a hope than an expectation."

"Ugh, bisexual boys are all so emotional," Kinga sneered, and Max rolled his eyes.

"Ignore her."

"Is that safe to do?" Jonah asked.

"No, it isn't," she said. "I'd advise against it."

"Then stop mocking him, we're trying to get him to like us."

"I was mocking _you_ ," she said, and Max sighed.

"Stop that too. Be nice for ten minutes." Just out of curiosity, Jonah let the back of his hand brush against Max's and inhaled sharply at the sweet, refreshing taste of his amusement and fondness for Kinga. The put-upon sighing was just a front; he adored her and took no offense at her jibes that Jonah could pick up on. Max froze and then relaxed, letting his hand press into Jonah's as he glanced up to match what he could feel Jonah felt to what Jonah let show on his face. "We are pretty worrisome, but you don't need to be _that_ worried," he said gently.

"You spoil all my fun," Kinga said, and just to see what she'd do Jonah offered his hand across her desk. She looked disgusted, but as soon as she touched fingertips to his, he could feel that she was just as amused as Max was, just as devoted to him as he was to her, and that was a comfort for Jonah to know— that the huffing and eye-rolling and barbed words were just how she displayed affection, and the affection ran strong and deep even if she couldn't express it in a straightforward way. She hummed quietly, eyes sliding half shut. "Hmm. That's weird."

"What's weird?" Max asked.

"Feeling both of you at once. Tastes like a creamsicle."

"A creamsicle?" Jonah asked, one brow arching.

"Yeah. I don't know how you feel him, but Max's feelings have always tasted like vanilla ice cream to me. And then you're crisp and citrusy like fresh-squeezed orange juice. It's, um, it's very..." Her eyes closed the rest of the way, and her lips tilted into a smile. "It's nice. You complement each other beautifully. That's definitely unexpected."

"Oh, that's weird," Jonah said. "Because I definitely get the vanilla ice cream thing from him too." He looked from her to Max and back again. "And you're like overspiced chai. Heavy on the cardamom and cloves." They complemented each other well too. Jonah wondered what it would be like to have their feelings in the back of his head for the rest of their lives, if he wanted that at all. Sweetness and spice lingered, a phantom taste on the back of his tongue as long as their skin touched his.

"Yeah, she is," Max said, looking startled. "Oh, I didn't know that was the same from person to person. It's, uh, from what I can tell anyways, it's rare for people with multiple marks to all be marked to the same people like this? Usually if someone has two marks, they're sequential, not concurrent relationships, and almost never concurrent with their match's matches."

"Really?" Jonah asked. "I thought it wasn't that rare. Although that could be a function of Hollywood and not science."

"That's definitely a function of Hollywood," Max said. "It's not highly studied, obviously, but I've seen the odds of a triad like this quoted anywhere from between three in a million and three in three million. Which is still not the most rare arrangement we’ve got statistics for, but still, fewer than ten thousand people on the planet's pretty damn rare."

"Well, we're not on Earth right now," Jonah pointed out. "And I don't know how many other people you have up here—"

"No other humans," Kinga said evasively.

"Then we're statistically overwhelmingly normal for the moon," Jonah said. He turned his hand to catch Max's better, fingertips tracing the hollow of his palm. "What do you think, do she and I go well together too?"

"The combination is like orange spice tea," Max said. "Which I like a lot. So yes, I'd say so."

"Interesting," Kinga said, looking from one to the other. "That we're complementary in each others' eyes. Very interesting." Slowly, she pulled her fingertips away from Jonah's, and her curiosity was the last thing to fade out of his mind. He tried not to sigh, and Max sat up a little straighter next to him, brows shooting up. "What?"

"Nothing," Max said, but the look he gave Jonah meant that it wasn't nothing. Jonah returned a questioning glance, but all he could feel was intense satisfaction radiating from Max until he let go of his hand. Jonah was searching for what to say when his stomach grumbled very loudly. "Oh jeez, you've been living on space rations for I don't even know how long. Let me make you lunch?"

"I'd appreciate that," Jonah said, startled, and Max beamed at him.

"Hungry, honey?"

"I could eat," Kinga said. "Don't go overboard. You have a while to make a good impression, you don't have to go lunar gourmand right out of the gate."

"Don't spoil my fun, sweetie."

"Turnabout's fair play, dork."

"I'm not hard to impress with food," Jonah said. "You really don't have to try very hard. But if you have fresh fruit I'd practically eat it out of your hand with how long it's been since the last time I had it."

" _Interesting_ ," Max said, and the look he gave Jonah before he walked away was enough to make Jonah's cheeks turn pink. Kinga smirked.

"You're making this too easy for us, you know."

"Maybe I don't want it to be difficult," Jonah said.

“No? I thought you’d be more reluctant.”

“So did I.” He was surprised that he wasn’t reluctant, but he trusted what he felt from them more than what they said, and from what he felt, he didn’t have to be nearly as worried as he thought he did. They were deeply in love with each other and deeply curious about him, and that was enough to be going on, given that he’d known them less than an hour yet. Yes, he was in the middle of two supervillains’ lair, but Jonah had a feeling that he was as safe as he’d ever get in his life given that the supervillains were his soulmates.


End file.
